Insomnia
by black melt
Summary: Nate can't sleep. Neither can Piper. Instead, they talk.


"Rough night, Blue?"

Piper's voice cuts through the silence of Sanctuary. The concern in it is hard to miss, and Nate supposes he deserves it; what with all the tossing and turning he just did, he's sure to be looking a wreck right about now.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Ah, insomnia. It's no big deal. You kinda have to get used to it out here," She replied, giving him her signature tight-lipped smile. She scoots and pats at the now-unoccupied space in invitation. "Come, sit, get warm. This ol' log's big enough for two."

Nate obliges. It earns her a half-smile, which she rewards by settling half of her blanket over his shoulders, the other over her own. Combined with the heat of the campfire, it's uncomfortably warm, but if Nate just closed his eyes he could almost imagine another lifetime.

He keeps them open.

"I like coming outside when I can't sleep. I think it's the air, all fresh and—well," Piper paused. "As fresh as post-nuclear armageddon can be, anyway."

Nate hummed in agreement. "I had nightmares a lot. I'd come outside and sit on the front step to clear my head."

"Nightmares, Blue?"

"When I returned from the war, the first thing I thought was _finally_ , it's over," Nate replied. He begins stoking the fire with a nearby stick, lips quirking up briefly before settling back into a line. "Turns out the war returned with me."

"You were a veteran?" Piper asked, curiosity piqued. It doesn't surprise her in the least. "That must make the Commonwealth a walk in the park, doesn't it?"

"We were facing different kinds of monsters back then, ideals. I don't think anything could have prepared us for what's happened."

"Still, it doesn't hurt to have that kind of experience under your belt. I'd say you've been holding up pretty _well_ here."

A brief laugh. "Well, I didn't say it doesn't help. But the nightmares—those haven't gone away. Nora was always a light sleeper. No matter how hard I'd try, she was always up with me, coffee in hand."

"Nora?" She asked, soft. As if uttering the name would stir up ghosts.

"My wife. Before," Nate swallowed. "Before everything."

Piper considered this for a moment. "Nate and Nora," Amused, she snorts. "Huh. Alliteration. I like that."

Nate laughs in response, quiet. "I figured you would."

The silence returns. Nate could feel Piper's eyes on him, could tell she wanted to say more, but he continues poking at the flames, all-too hot but too comfortable to do anything about it. He would be completely fine leaving the conversation as it was, but Piper's not known to let sleeping dogs lie, and he tries to not let his amusement show as her voice once again breaks through the stillness.

"So, uh…" Piper began, unsure. She knows she's treading uncharted ground and while she never locks up like this normally, this is _Nate_ , sole survivor and hero of the Commonwealth. She's been chronicling his journey since the moment he stepped into Diamond City, but she realizes that while she knows so much about the _survivor_ , she knows very, very little about the _man_. "Nora. Do you miss her?"

"Always," Nate replied. He doesn't miss a beat and something in Piper's heart wrenches. "Always."

"What was she like?" Piper asked, too quickly, and immediately starts backtracking. "I mean, you don't have to tell me, Blue, I was just—"

"Is this interview off the record, Ms. Wright?" Nate lightly teased. He doesn't have to look at her to know her expression.

"Yes? Yes! Of course, Jesus, Nate, you would think—you think this is an interview? No, I'm just—"

"It's okay, Piper. I'm only teasing you."

Piper lightly punched him in the shoulder, all mock offense. "Christ, don't do that! I might be a vulture of the press but even reporters have integrity."

Nate nods, jovial, but the mood changes as he ponders what to say. How could he possibly begin to describe Nora to someone who doesn't know her? How could he—how could he make Piper understand, just how wonderful she was? How could he make her understand how he fell in love with her eyes, her laugh, the small crinkling of her nose when she smiled? How could he possibly do any justice to the woman he vowed to be with until death do they part?

"Where do I begin?" Nate starts, instead, honest about his predicament. "Nora was… an incredible woman. Selfless. She always had people's best interests in her heart. It made sense—she was a lawyer, and a damn good one, too.

"When we got the news she was pregnant, that didn't stop her. We walked out of that clinic and she immediately turned me around, told me that as soon as Shaun is born, she was going to go out and get herself a job to give him the best life can offer. That's all she wanted for Shaun—that's all we _ever_ wanted for him. And now…"

Nate stops to recollect himself, licks his lips and takes a deep breath.

"I never understood the phrase 'love of my life' until I met her. Two hundred years… except I can still remember the way she felt in my arms, the way her hair brushed my cheek when she kissed me. I just have to look over at what our life was and I see her clear as day, standing at the door and waving me off in the morning," And he looks over at what was once his home. There she was, standing amidst the rust and rubble, rocking Shaun in her arms. She's speaking to him, wordless, and gives Nate a wave, one of her own and one from Shaun, his tiny hand wrapped around her finger.

Nate blinks rapidly at the tears forming in his eyes.

"Ever since I woke up from the Vault, Shaun's been the priority. He _is_ the priority. But in moments like this, I… I think about her, about us, about what we had. About life before and the possibilities—it's. It's hard. I don't think it'll ever stop being hard."

He rests his weight on the elbows at his thighs. Nate can feel Piper's hand on his shoulder blade, patting him gently. A comfort.

"Nora always said that I had a problem with keeping things in. She also said I had a problem with letting things go. If she were here…" He trails off, eyes brought down to his wringing hands. He doesn't want to speak about it anymore. He can't.

For a moment, they stay like this: Nate, hunched over, and Piper, turned and trying to comfort him. Piper slowly rests her head on his shoulder and he moves to tighten the blanket around him, leaning into her weight.

"She sounds like a great woman," Piper finally said.

Nate slowly nods, absentmindedly fiddling with the too-small golden wedding ring around his pinkie finger. The engraving of Nora's name catches the light of the fire as he does so, and he finds that he likes the way it looks.

"She is."

A beat.

"She was."


End file.
